


An Easy Mark

by orphan_account



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Coercion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-04-16 01:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14154129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: 514A comes back, to show Alfred how hereallyfeels, to take what he wants, without consequence.With how nasty Bruce is being to Alfred, he reasons, it's not like Alfred will know the difference.[Takes place during Bruce's vigilantism where Alfred disapproves. After Bruce has killed Ras al Ghul and decided to push Alfred out of his life]





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

Always, the man's prim waistcoat - so colorful and pretty, buttoned up like a present which made 514A want to touch, _unwrap_ \- was belied by the faintly rogueish, even mulish, twist of his mouth.

 

514A had never made Alfred look like that so often, when he was Bruce. So unhappily resigned, brow consistently furrowed, and unable to voice his complaint with any amount of authority.

 

And didn't that thought set something to tingling within him? Alfred, always so limited. Everywhere he turned trapped within perimeters set by Bruce. Not unlike how 514A had condescendingly humored him - letting Alfred win their chess match. Letting him win their spars.

 

And that was another thing he thought about. His hands on the man. How easy it would be to unleash his power on him - how easy he would be to subdue.

 

And in that way he was superior to Bruce.

 

Likely, Bruce wouldn't have been able to choose between Selina and Alfred - but for 514A there had been no choice, no doubt. The moment Selina had threatened to tell Alfred she was marked. Because 514A would do anything to keep Bruce Wayne's butler.

 

Hurting Alfred though, he hadn't wanted to do that. And yet - there was something about it. Something about having the man spread out below him on the ground, the open vulnerability and pure desperation - nevermind it was for Bruce - instantly addictive.

 

Everything Alfred did was for Bruce. Bruce - who was fucking it all up.

 

514A hadn't been so weak, so in turmoil, after his first kill. It was hardly given much thought. The nerve of his doppelganger though, to so blatantly take it out on Alfred, irked him. He knew, intellectually, that it was good. If only for the fact 514A felt he could turn it to his favor.

 

 

 

 

  
He arrived at the mansion in the afternoon. Carefully coiffed and styled to look just right. It probably wouldn't have mattered. 514A was an old hand at deceiving Alfred. He knew that, unless he revealed himself, Alfred would probably never be the wiser.

And in a way that irked 514A as well. He wanted Alfred to notice him. Him, and not Bruce. 514A could destroy their relationship, if he wanted - just to spite Bruce, only Bruce was doing a pretty good job of that himself.

 

"Sir." said curtly, endearing and a little wry, met 514A's ears when he walked in the door.

 

Alfred had taken station at the kitchen table, gingerly biting into a piece of toast - careful the crumbs fell over the plate - and feigning disinterest.

 

"Alfred." 514A spits back coolly.

 

Outwardly, there's really only a twinge that gives Alfred's emotional state away. He's affronted, a little, but mostly just hurt. And would Bruce notice that 514A wonders?

 

Probably Bruce is too absorbed in himself to take in the delights around him - but no, that's wrong. 514A knows exactly what sort of delights Bruce has been taking in these days.

 

Certainly not Alfred, in his pretty petal soft waistcoat - silver stitched through to match the shine in his hair. It's almost painful to look at him, when 514A knows he can't _touch_.

 

514A is likely going to be dead before Bruce Wayne's 20th birthday so he doesn't have much to lose. It's not a question of rejection. The rejection is solidly eminent. It's the question of how far 514A can push, before he reaches The Line that Alfred will not let him cross.

 

Going on the strength of Alfred's affection, 514A guesses pretty far.

 

"Well, where have you been out to then?" Alfred asks, in that way of his, as though he doesn't expect an answer.

 

"Not here." 514A sneers, "The bedroom is in a state. Not fit to sleep in."

 

As expected, it riles Alfred. The last thing the man can be accused of is uncleanliness. He pops off his perch and stands to an elegant attention.

 

"Well, then, Sir. Perhaps you'll show me where exactly you find my services so lacking." There's a snarking defensiveness but also a gloating kind of assurance that promises vindication.

 

514A almost feels bad, but then not at all.

 

 _You've always been good to me Alfred_ , he'd said the last time they'd met. The glaring fact is, Alfred is the only one who has been good to him. And maybe that's the reason for his unhealthy attachment. Maybe, Bruce doesn't feel this way about Alfred at all. But 514A doesn't think so. It's almost as if Alfred is in their DNA.

 

He leads Alfred to Bruce's bedroom. 514A's bedroom, for all intents and purposes.

 

"There." he says, with a careless wave of his hand towards the bed, tipping forward a little, "It's filthy."

 

They both stare at it for a beat. And 514A is impressed with how aired out and taken care of the space is for all the time Bruce hasn't been spending in it. It should at the very least be dusty, the air stifling. It's pristine, actually. And he sees Alfred's face flush for a moment in indignation before he opens his mouth to defend himself.

 

"I'll get right on it, Master Bruce." He says - which is a surprise and evident of how strained Bruce and Alfred's relationship has become -  before he turns, proper and stiff, back towards the door.

 

 "Alfred." 514A says warringly, knows he hits that same tone of arrogance Bruce has lately taken on by the way Alfred flinches.

 

"Yes, Master?" Alfred can just barely hold himself from adding _B_ to that, 514A guesses. He finds he doesn't mind.

 

"Would you be so kind as to come here a moment?" It's an unkind challenge, said with a nearly imperceptible upward tilt of his chin. So like Bruce.

 

The lines around Alfred's mouth tighten and he takes on a clipped tone.

 

"Sir." he says simply as he stands beside the bed.

 

He doesn't cow back when 514A rises to his full height and closes in on his personal space. He's almost as tall as Alfred - one day, Bruce will be taller.

 

"It's. Filthy." He says again, voice low.

 

Alfred - bless him - actually looks properly terrorized. Ashamedly admonished. After a brief moment he even casts his gaze downward.

 

"Or it will be." 514A continues.

 

Alfred won't, 514A thinks, take it as the proposition it is. Maybe he thinks Bruce is going to get sloppy drunk and pass out with vomit on the comforter.

 

Alfred surprises him. He has a hard look then, brows furrowed in consternation.

 

"You are too young, Sir, for women."

 

Ah, 514A thinks, if only Alfred had known what Bruce had been out there getting up to. There are many ways 514A could respond. He settles on an exasperated, "Tell me how I can get you out of my life." because it's the quickest way to get him what he wants.

 

He does regret the way Alfred's face falls and how he suddenly stutters back, unsure and hurt. 514A still remembers the open - gorgeous- smile that used to greet him with tea and breakfast every morning. It's sheer infectiousness and the warmth it spilled into every corner of his mind.

 

It's easier, more seamless, if Alfred doesn't understand his motivations. The incident is certainly not something he will bring up to Bruce in the future.

 

"Wait," 514A says, in something of a belligerent, ugly tone, "I think I know how."

 

He paws at Alfred's waist to drag him closer, revels in the shift of the soft fabric, and leans forward to kiss him. It's aggressive, and he bites viciously at Alfred's lip.

 

Alfred pulls back and hits him almost instantaneously. And 514A has to make it look believable, has to play at being hurt.

 

"I-I am so sorry, Master Bruce I-" Alfred is stuttering, already reaching forward to try and get a look at 514A's face. There's note of panic in his voice and his eyes are wide and worried.

 

"Prove it." 514A says, a mask of pain across his features while at the same time trying to emulate bratty determination.

 

He kisses Alfred again. So hard he almost knocks him back. Alfred flails a little, but rears himself in. _Lets_ 514A for a brief moment, so very brief. 514A wonders if a closed mouth kiss was within Alfred's limits. If he should have worked his way up from there first. But it's too late because when he gasps 514A pushes his tongue inside, the barest hint of it.

 

Alfred of course tries to retreat, steps back until he's pressed against the bed post. He grabs at 514A's arms and tries to push him away. 514A forgets about his plans to respect Alfred's lines.

 

Some of the kisses are soft, and some of them are hard. Alfred's making little noises of protest into his mouth. 514A only stops when he feels Alfred sag against the bed post, like he's giving up. It's probably a sign that he's gone too far. Farther than he meant to.

 

For a sickly, frightening moment he doesn't think he can stop.

 

He finally pulls back and it takes all of his self control to school his features, to stop them from being so hungry.

 

Alfred, for his part, looks startled and not only that - but frightened.

 

"Sir." He says, pale faced. And beautiful, so beautiful.

 

514A wonders if Alfred will remember him. Remember 514A. He doesn't want to mar the memory, however faint and unimportant it might be to the man. He hides behind Bruce because already 514A can tell that Alfred has instantly forgiven him.

 

"It's a pity," he says cruelly, and Alfred's heart is breaking on his face, "That didn't make you leave either."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

Bruce is easily the most frustrating, daunting, and worrying figure in Alfred's life. The boy is constantly in trouble, consistently. The worst thing being that - Alfred doesn't have a vocal way to convey his...displeasure.

When Gordon says, "You knew he went after him?" in obvious disapproval, when he learns Bruce has gone after yet another undesirable - and it's like Jerome Valeska all over again and Alfred hadn't know then either.

Alfred can only say, "of course."

Because the minutiae details of Bruce's life are no longer privy to him. Neither, apparently, are the big details. He is no longer a caretaker or a guardian but just a butler.

It feels that way anyway.

He's a trusted butler, sure. Who Bruce can depend upon when circumstances take a turn. But he still washes the dishes and does the dusting, and as he does, Bruce is running around like a vigilante, maybe getting hurt.

Thomas Wayne is probably turning in his grave at the care Alfred has taken of his son.

 

 

 

The thing is - they don't fight a lot. Rather Alfred protests (rarely) and makes his displeasure subtly known (less rarely) and Bruce acknowledges it before deciding that he knows better and they will follow _his_ lead.

It had been absolutely infuriating at first not to be heeded, though now Alfred is used to it. And the thing is he trusts Bruce, begins to trust him, more than he should that perhaps Bruce is right and he knows what he's doing.

It's ridiculous in retrospect.

Bruce is maybe not a boy anymore, but a young man and that's still - too young. Alfred should be providing guidance. Should be a guardian, despite the emancipation.

Alfred is still a little rattled that Bruce had gone through with it after all, hadn't bothered to either halt or reverse it even after they'd made up.

So - they don't fight a lot. Or at all. At first it had maybe been because Alfred felt his precarious situation. He could get a job anywhere but walking out of Bruce's life had been out of the question. And it has to be, because Alfred's situation is no longer precarious, because he knows that although he won't be heeded he'll at least be acknowledged, that he feels comfortable enough to start a fight.

That - or it's because he's just so damn angry.

 

 

 

"Just what were you _thinking_ Bruce?!"

It is a shout and Alfred knows this because Bruce gives him a look. One that says, 'really now? Why don't we just tone it down it isn't all that important' and 'you're being dramatic'.

"I have to hear all this from Miss Kyle, you couldn't even bother to tell me yourself?!"

"You're not my keeper, Alfred." Bruce says evenly, tersely. Because Bruce is angry with him too.

"The man has some _sick_ obsession with you. You're liable to get - to get molested! And you just waltz right in like a bloody lunatic-" Alfred's voice is rising, shaking a little as he continues. As he thinks of what could have - what might have - happened.

Bruce's nonchalance only rankles him more.

" _Alfred_." Bruce's tone is dangerous, brooks no argument. It's so authoritative that it brings Alfred up short for a second.

It's a warning, but Alfred doesn't take it.

"A-and another thing! How _dare_ you intercept my mail. That's private and it's - a federal offense!" That part had honestly been the least of Alfred's worries, but it's a valid point nonetheless.

And Bruce leaving to meet Jeremiah Valeska wouldn't have happened otherwise. The invitation had been addressed to Alfred after all.

"I'm not going to _apologize_ for protecting you." Bruce says sourly. His shoulders are heaving a little with heavy breaths and that's how Alfred knows he's getting to him.

"Oh sod off! Protect _me_? We both know that's not why you went." And maybe it is, but Bruce has a problem too. "You're always taking things onto yourself when it's not even any of your _bloody business!_ "

The last part is all growl.

Bruce stiffens, like Alfred's hit a sore spot.

"I think - " Bruce says gently, mouth downturned at the corners, "you are mistaking what is and is not _your_ business."

"He sent the invitation to _me_." Alfred says pettily, although they both know Alfred is only as useful to Valeska insofar as his relation to Bruce.

"You are a butler." Bruce bites shortly.

It's cruel. To say it like that.

And it's not that Alfred doesn't know, hadn't accepted the condition to reenter Bruce's life but it still smarts.

Alfred of course, tries not to let the effect of the words show on his face. It must work because rather than making Bruce stop Alfred's silence makes him advance.

"I could replace you in an instant. Any services you provide me can be bought, Alfred. I'll say it again, you're not my keeper."

It's been a long while, ages even, since _That_ Time. And Alfred will be honest, he hadn't expected to be here again quite so soon.

He can't help it when his face finally falls. And then he finds he can't hold Bruce's challenging gaze anymore. The boy's won, like he always does.

There's silence between them for a moment.

It happens so suddenly, that Bruce is in his space, that Alfred hardly has time to acknowledge it before Bruce's hand is forcing his chin up.

The kiss is even more unexpected.

It's not soft exactly but it's not rough either. More - insistent.

Alfred freezes up for a moment, feels the blood drain from his face, before he pushes Bruce away. The only logical conclusion is that Bruce maybe wants him gone, like last time. Is using _this_ of all things to drive him away. And Bruce has to know how bad this would look, whether Alfred was a participating party or not.

Which he most certainly is not.

Furthermore, Alfred had thought they were pretending that hadn't happened.

Alfred is ashamed it happened at all.

Bruce's breathing is ragged and he looks - affected.

"The things I want from you can't be bought." Bruce says, voice lower than it has any right to be. Different from the nearly childish register of two years ago.

"Stop." Alfred chokes out, strangled. It isn't necessary for Bruce to repeat his performance, Alfred gets the message loud and clear. "You don't need to do this again."

Bruce's brow furrows at that and he leans in towards Alfred.

It's uncomfortable. They're so close their breath is mingling.

"Last time -" Bruce begins with regret, but Alfred cuts him off immediately, temper rising.

"I appreciate that you didn't use your teeth this time, Master Bruce. You...don't need to threaten to fire me or drive me away. I won't step out of line again." The words are terse, and Alfred regrets they don't hide the hurt he's feeling.

The danger of course is that Alfred has read the last few months wrong, that he isn't as secure as he'd begun feeling, that Bruce does want him gone.

"Teeth..." Bruce repeats, a little dazed. "You're pale..."

"It's improper, and I think you know that. Last time I...this isn't going as far as last time." Alfred says steadily, with authority he doesn't feel.

He'd been so spooked, and yes - hurt, last time that there had been no admonishment. He'd never had brought it up of his own volition - so ashamed of it was he - and he'd expected that Bruce knew exactly how far out of bounds he was. He was only now considering that perhaps it was something that should have been discussed.

Bruce pulls back a little, eyes narrowing.

"Last time..." he prompts.

Alfred doesn't say anything for a moment, doesn't want to, but the silence gets to him.

"Last time was enough, trying to make me leave like that. By being cruel, by being...inappropriate. If I'm just your butler, fine. I'll find a way to live with it, but for the sake of your parents and because I care about you, I'm not leaving Master Bruce."

"Inappropriate." Bruce repeats blandly.

"Don't..." Alfred hesitates, then asks with something like resignation, "Please don't do that again."

"Don't do what?" Bruce says coldly.

"I'd rather not talk about it." Alfred brushes off, swallows thickly at Bruce's cold tone.

Just maybe, this isn't salvageable. Just maybe, Bruce is going to make Alfred leave.

"Last time I was gentle." Bruce states firmly.

"You bloody well were not." Alfred corrects immediately. "I had a bloody lip for a week. And bruises."

"I didn't hit you." Bruce queries.

"You held me down and - I-I should have - " Alfred cuts off abruptly.

He's embarrassed and he's not up for this conversation. He still doesn't know why he was so _weak_ , why he couldn't just - push the boy off. Alfred wouldn't make a good parent, he isn't good at handling delicate situations such as these, doesn't know what he should say. What the right thing to say is.

Bruce for his part looks green around the gills.

"It wasn't me." He says plainly.

It takes a long moment for Alfred to digest the words, and then he scoffs.

"What do you mean it wasn't you?"

"You thought it was me." Bruce says, in wonder but pained. "And you let him get away with it."

"You're not making any bloody sense." Alfred says uncomfortably. The thought is too disturbing to consider.

"How far did he...?" Bruce murmurs, expression somewhat wide eyed and desperate.

It hits Alfred all at once.

And just like that he sinks to the floor.

"Your double." Alfred lays out quietly, "When you said you were gentle you were fishing for information."

And of course Bruce is too smart for his own good. For both their goods. Alfred feels duped, like an imbecile. He feels the loss of being able to keep Bruce out of it. He can't even do that right.

"People would rather contradict than explain." Bruce says shortly, kneeling down to match Alfred. "Alfred, I need to know - "

"Not far!" Alfred says loudly.

Thinks back to what was said and thinks in retrospect it must have sounded worse than it actually was.

"It wasn't - far." He states again, calmer, in finality.

Bruce's jaw ticks in displeasure, but he nods in acceptance.

He looks worried though, when he pulls Alfred up from the floor.

"I'll make you some tea." He says, and Alfred doesn't protest.

 

 

 

When they're in the kitchen, Alfred settled on the stool Bruce usually occupies while Bruce stands in front of the kettle - a strange reversal of their duties - Bruce asks again.

"He sexually assaulted you?" The words are dark and startling.

"No." Alfred says immediately, "it was just - kissing."

Tension uncoils from Bruce's shoulders. Alfred can't help feeling Bruce is to young for all of this.

"Don't trouble yourself Master B." He says, gaining back some of his former cheer, "it's not as serious as all that."

"I saw the invitation and I took it. It was at the top of the pile." Bruce says in explanation, "I couldn't bear if he hurt you."

Alfred is touched, despite how troubled things have been between them.

"I'm not an easy mark." Bruce frowns at Alfred's words, quite obviously doesn't believe them, "and I - I don't want you to protect me. I want to protect _you_."

"Will you tell me what happened?" Bruce asks, handing a warm mug to Alfred and dragging his fingers across Alfred's as he takes the cup.

Which is when Alfred seems to conveniently remember Bruce kissed him, without the context of before.

Consequently he drops the mug in nervous shock.

Bruce is sweeping the shards of broken glass away in the next instant.

"I won't lie to you anymore, about what I'm feeling." Bruce says, "I won't try and hide it or push you away to protect you. That's the best I can offer right now."

"Bruce - " Alfred begins seriously.

"I don't expect you to return my feelings." Bruce says, like he's read Alfred's thoughts.

"Okay..." Alfred says, for lack of anything to say.

"I'm going to find him." Bruce says, something stingy in his voice.

"Bruce no..." Alfred protests, not expecting to be obeyed but rather brushed aside like all the other times.

Bruce mouth presses unhappily, makes him look years older than he is.

"Okay." Bruce acquiesces. "Whatever you want."

The flow of warmth that radiates from Alfred's chest is something new, and - probably something dangerous.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
